


Walk Beside Me

by Morgane (smilla840)



Category: Criminal Minds
Genre: Grief, Hurt Hotch, M/M, Missing scene for "100" (5x09), Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-15
Updated: 2012-07-15
Packaged: 2017-11-10 01:05:21
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,491
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/460525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/smilla840/pseuds/Morgane
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Hotch’s been in there for a very long time.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Walk Beside Me

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [[翻譯] Walk Beside Me 伴我同行](https://archiveofourown.org/works/3997597) by [masayosi661](https://archiveofourown.org/users/masayosi661/pseuds/masayosi661)



> Missing scene from 5x09 (‘100’). Hotch needed some looking after.

Dave shifts uneasily and shoots a surreptitious glance at his watch. They’re nearing the half-hour mark fast and he worries.

It’s not the almost paralyzing terror from earlier, back when they had lost contact with Hotch. Those ten little minutes that had seemed to last a lifetime, during which they hadn’t known whether he was alive or dead or worse, Dave’s brain more than willing to come up with gruesome scenarios. He’ll probably have nightmares for weeks but he’ll deal because Hotch is alive and (relatively) well and really that’s all that matters right now.

But Dave still worries, even though this time he knows exactly where Hotch is, just a few feet away in his old bedroom with Haley.

They’ve tried to give him as much privacy as they can, leaving him alone with her to say goodbye and retreating to the far end of the corridor. It’s as far away from the master bedroom as they can manage without leaving the floor entirely – which is something none of them seems willing to do just yet.

It’s a bit cramped, the three of them huddled there at the top of the stairs standing guard. But anyone who wants to bother Hotch will have to go through them – they’ve got guns and Rossi thinks he can speak for all three of them when he says that they won’t hesitate to draw them.

More minutes pass and Morgan and Prentiss start shooting concerned looks at each other, clearly wondering whether they should be doing something. More. Dave stares at the bedroom door, willing it to open, but it remains stubbornly closed.

Damn it, Aaron…

The by now familiar thumps of Spencer’s cane coming up the stairs distract them and they clear a spot on the landing for him to stand on.

“How’s Jack?” Emily asks, keeping her voice hushed.

“He’s okay. JJ had the paramedics take a look at him – there’s not a scratch on him. She’s with him now.”

“Good,” she says with a weak but relieved smile.

A minute of awkward silence, then:

“How’s Hotch?” Reid’s question is tentative and Rossi shares a look with the other two.

“He is still in there,” Morgan finally offers and Reid frowns.

“Shouldn’t someone… go in there?”

They not so subtlely glance at Rossi.

“I’ll go,” Dave says needlessly and feels a little guilty for not doing it sooner when they all look immensely relieved.

It doesn’t take more than five steps for him to reach the door. He pushes it open, crossing the threshold slowly. The first thing he sees is Haley and for a split second he feels the same relief he did when they first got there. He is _glad_ , so fiercely glad that she is the one lying there and not Hotch, and yeah, maybe that makes him a bad person but then again Dave never claimed to be a saint.

His friend is safe and that’s all he cares about.

He tries not to look at her, remembering instead the first time he had met her, a couple of months after Hotch had joined the BAU. Remembering how happy they had looked together – how young. Hotch had laughed more back then, and Dave had liked that sound. He had been jealous too, and in the wake of his second divorce he hadn’t been able to figure out whether he was jealous of them, of what they had together – marital bliss was something Dave had always been terrible at – or whether he was jealous of _her_.

Years later he is a lot less confused than he once was: he’s made his peace with his feelings for Hotch a long time ago but that doesn’t stop his heart from racing when he doesn’t find the man where he expects him to be, sitting next to his ex-wife. It takes less than two seconds to locate him on the other side of the room and an additional five to rein in the panic, and he exhales slowly before taking the final steps that bring him to Aaron’s side.

It doesn’t take a genius – or a profiler – to see that the man’s blaming himself, the distance he’s purposefully put between himself and Haley a blatant sign of misplaced guilt. But now is not the time to address the issue. Nothing he will say will make Hotch feel differently, the man too prone to self-flagellation for his own good, but Dave silently vows that he _will_ make him listen – eventually. Aaron needs that from him.

“Hotch,” he says as he kneels next to him, his knees protesting loudly as a reminder that he’s not getting any younger.

Hotch doesn’t react to the word or to the hand on his shoulder and Dave takes a second to study him. The drying tear tracks are tinged with pink where Aaron tried to wipe his face, the blood from his hands coming to mingle with his own, and Dave itches to wash it all away so that they can pretend nothing happened. 

It seems almost cruel to force Hotch out of the numbness that he’s wrapped around himself like a shield but then Dave looks past the blood and sees the cuts and the bruises and the worry starts anew.

“Aaron.” He tries again, firmer this time, and cups Hotch’s face gently, forcing him to meet his eyes. The raw misery he sees in them makes him flinch inwardly but then they clear a little, focusing on him, and Dave releases a shaky breath.

“Hey,” he says and Aaron blinks.

“Dave.” Hotch’s voice is gravelly from disuse – or crying – and Rossi squeezes his shoulder encouragingly.

“I’m so sorry,” he says, quiet and emphatic, and Hotch nods numbly. 

After a beat of silence during which Aaron makes no move to stand, Dave gives him a little shake.

“Come on, let’s go see Jack,” he coaxes.

That gets Hotch moving like Dave hoped it would and he stays close in case he is needed – Aaron doesn’t look too steady. Together they walk towards the door and at the threshold it’s Dave who hesitates, seeing their teammates hover a few feet away. Their gazes barely touch him before zeroing in on Hotch, more concern than he thinks the man can handle right now. Or maybe it’s him who isn’t ready to let go just yet. So he veers into the bathroom instead, tugging Hotch after him and closing the door behind them. He is doing it for Aaron, he tells himself. He wouldn’t want them to see him so undone. Wouldn’t want Jack to see his father covered in blood.

Dave turns on the tap and starts rummaging through the cupboards for a towel. He spares a fleeting thought to forensic evidence before shrugging it off – getting cleaned up will make Hotch feel better. He hopes.

He finds what he was looking for and turns back towards Aaron who hasn’t moved an inch. Gently Dave takes his hands into his own and places them under the water, rubbing the blood off them. It’s cold, the heater switched off since Haley went into hiding, but Hotch doesn’t seem to notice. Together they watch as the water turns pink, watch it disappear down the drain, and when Hotch’s hands are clean once more Dave wets the towel and starts washing Aaron’s face, mindful of the cuts.

“Wouldn’t want to scare the kids,” he says, trying to crack a smile and failing miserably. It’s true though: the team tends to freak out when Hotch behaves unHotch-like. And this Hotch… is nothing like the one they’re used to.

But his words seem to bring Hotch back to himself, the man’s sense of responsibility always too acute for his own good. He takes a deep breath and visibly pulls himself together, a brittle mask descending on his face. It’s not much, this pretense of control, and it certainly wouldn’t fool anyone unless they wanted to be fooled. Which, for the most part, they do. 

Dave doesn’t.

It both amazes and terrifies him, the way Aaron is able to compartmentalize everything. Sometimes he wonders how – and why – he learned the skill in the first place and part of him dreads finding out the answer. At the same time he is pathetically grateful that the man trusts him enough not to put up fronts for him. To allow Dave to see him completely broken and not be ashamed of it.

Dave finishes washing Aaron’s face in silence and Aaron lets him. He’s slow about it, unconsciously dragging things on, which he realizes when Hotch tilts his head to shoot him a questioning look. Dave offers a sheepish smile and drops the towel back in the sink.

“Ready?” he asks by the door and Hotch looks back at him woodenly. 

Right. Stupid question.

They exit the bathroom together.

“Are the paramedics still here?” he asks the others as soon as they joined them. “He needs to be checked out.”

“I’m fine, Dave,” Hotch interjects, obviously aiming for steely and coming out tired instead.

“Like hell you are,” Dave mutters and Reid clears his throat awkwardly.

“They’re still there,” he says.

A beat, during which their three young teammates just stand there, trying to shoot not so discreet looks at an impassive Hotch, then:

“Let’s go then,” Dave says pointedly when it looks like no one is going to move this century and his words finally set them into a flurry of motions.

They file down the stairs, Dave closing the march right behind Hotch – he is not letting the man out of his sight anytime soon – and when they reach the bottom he puts his hand on Aaron’s lower back and steers him past Foyet’s body and into the sunlight.

Hotch takes two steps outside and suddenly finds himself with an armful of little boy. He lifts Jack up higher in his arms, holding him close, and Dave catches the wince as he does so.

Right. Paramedics.

He backs away, both to give Aaron some space and to locate his query. Just as he spots them and waves them over, JJ appears next to him looking paler than usual.

“He keeps asking for Haley,” she tells him quietly so that Hotch won’t overhear but her discretion turns out to be for nothing.

“Where’s mommy?” Dave hears Jack say and he turns back towards the pair in time to see Aaron’s thin veneer of control shatter. 

He can’t hear the answer or if there even is one, but he does see Aaron’s eyes squeeze shut and the lonely tear that escapes his will-power. Then the paramedics are there and Hotch pulls himself together again, not protesting when they guide him towards the ambulance. 

Dave trails after them and so does JJ, bless her. She’s there to distract Jack while his father gets looked at and the verdict that falls within minutes doesn’t really surprise anyone: they need to take Hotch to the hospital for X-rays.

“Jack’s coming with me,” Hotch says, and his tone broke no argument.

The team gathers around the ambulance as they lift Hotch in, JJ helping Jack clamber in to sit next to his father. After a brief hesitation Dave follows, telling himself someone will need to look after Jack while the doctors are with Hotch.

“We’ll meet you at the hospital,” Prentiss calls after them and Dave nods.

“See you there,” he says.

“Someone has to stay until another team gets there. Brief them when they arrive,” Hotch breaks in.

“Hotch…” Morgan starts, sounding torn, but JJ interrupts him.

“Don’t worry about it, we’ll take care of everything,” she says soothingly and the doors of the ambulance close.

“Are they going to turn on the lights, daddy?” Jack asks full of innocent excitement and Hotch smiles weakly at him.

“Would you like that?” he asks and Jack nods enthusiastically.

“I’m sure they will.”

As if on cue they pull away from the curb, siren blaring, and Jack beams.

Dave watches as some of the misery lifts from Aaron’s face at the sight, and thinks that they just might be okay.

 

Hotch throws up twice on the way to the hospital and Dave doesn’t know whether it’s shock or a concussion. The ride seems to last forever and then they’re finally there and doctors whisked Aaron away to a trauma room, leaving Dave standing in the middle of the waiting area with Jack. Were it just him he wouldn’t hesitate to follow and demand to know everything that’s going on but then he looks at Jack who’s looking lost and very small, and he sighs resignedly.

“Your daddy is going to be okay,” he tells him, a little awkward because he isn’t used to being around kids all that much. Jack nods dutifully and slips his hand into Dave’s.

Dave blinks, a little startled, and tries to smile down at Jack. He must be doing a decent enough job because Jack smiles back and Dave leads them both towards plastic seats that look mightily uncomfortable.

“There you go. We’ll wait here until we can see your dad, okay?”

“Okay.”

They sit there quietly, Jack’s legs swinging back and forth rhythmically and his hand still in Dave’s. It’s oddly comforting, he reflects. It certainly keeps him from going up to the nurses’ station and making a nuisance of himself. And Jack is Aaron’s, and that helps too. To have a part of him right there next to him. Dave may not know the kid well – unlike most of the others he wasn’t around when Jack was born – but Jack has his father’s too serious demeanor and that makes him smile a little sadly.

“George was a bad man,” Jack suddenly says, startling Dave out of his thoughts. “But I worked the case with Daddy.”

He sounds so proud that Dave’s smile grows more genuine.

“I’m sure you were a great help to him,” he answers honestly.

“Mommy was scared.” 

That wipes the smile right off Dave’s face.

“It was very scary,” he says, sounding a little strangled to his own ears, and he’s never been so relieved to see Spencer and Emily.

He notes in passing that Morgan is monitoring the scene – a responsibility that is his as team leader but that he was no doubt displeased to shoulder – and that JJ probably volunteered to stay with him in order to smooth the feathers Morgan was sure to rumple with his bad mood. A wise choice, he thinks, and something less for Hotch to worry about.

Good.

“Any word on Hotch?” Emily asks and Dave shakes his head.

“Not yet. I’ll go check if you keep an eye on Jack?”

“It’s okay, I’ll go,” she says quickly, looking down at their joined hands with a hint of amusement, and she disappears before Dave can object.

Reid lowers himself carefully on the seat on the other side of Jack and the two quickly strike up a conversation – Dave is busy looking for Prentiss but he thinks he hears something about magic, and when he glances at them he sees Spencer pull a quarter out of Jack’s ear. It makes Jack laugh and Dave’s grateful for that too.

Emily finally returns with a doctor whose report is no big surprise: a concussion, a couple of cracked ribs, a handful of superficial cuts and a lot of bruising that will make Hotch’s life very uncomfortable in the next few days. He can go home as long as someone stays with him and he doesn’t exert himself – Dave barely holds back a snort at that – and yes, they can see him now.

That’s good, Dave thinks. That’s very good.

The four of them make their way towards Hotch’s bed, Jack not letting go of his hand, and it makes Aaron almost smile when he sees them. Dave scoots the kid up and deposits him on the bed next to his father, who quite frankly looks like shit.

“Thanks for looking after him,” Aaron says, ruffling Jack’s hair.

“It was no trouble,” Dave answers, parking himself at the foot of the bed.

“How are you feeling?” Emily asks.

Before Hotch can answer, a tornado of sounds and colors storms into the small room.

Penelope Garcia has arrived.

“Oh my God! Are you okay? Is he okay? I was so worried, and they wouldn’t tell me anything on the phone and I was driving so I couldn’t hack into their files and Kevin wouldn’t do it –” the man in question appears in the doorway after her, looking a little winded, and gives an embarrassed smile to the room at large, “– and then I got through to Morgan but he was still at the scene and –”

“Garcia, I’m fine,” Hotch interrupts before she runs out of oxygen. “The doctor says I can go home.”

“Oh. Oh! That’s good. Here –” she thrusts a bag forward. “I brought your overnight bag from your office, I thought you might need it.”

Hotch’s _‘thank you’_ is genuine and so is his smile, and Dave kind of wants to kiss Garcia just for that.

There is a knock on the door and a nurse sticks her head in, looking apologetic when she says there are gentlemen from the FBI here who want to talk to M. Hotchner.

“I’ll go and see what’s going on,” Dave says and steps out of the room.

What is going on is that the crime scene techs are here and want to collect evidence on Hotch. Rossi wonders who ordered them here – Strauss, no doubt, which means the real question is _why_ – and they have little choice but to comply.

The team trails out of the room reluctantly, taking Jack with them with promises of milk and cookies that they’d better deliver, but Rossi lingers. The technicians themselves look like they’d rather be anywhere but here. Dave can understand – Hotch is something of a legend at the Bureau – but he doesn’t sympathize. Not when the first flash of the camera makes Aaron flinch before he steels himself and endures the rest impassively.

Without the protection of his clothes Dave can see every scar left behind by Foyet, still pink and elevated. He finds himself counting them along with the newest bruises before he catches himself and forces himself to look away.

Hotch doesn’t say a word until they bag his clothes and declare they’re done. Then he _thanks_ them and Dave snorts. 

Typical.

The techs walk straight into Morgan on their way out and Dave catches a glimpse of his face before the door slams shut after them. 

Suddenly he feels a lot better.

Hotch must catch the satisfied look on his face because he shakes his head and gestures towards his bag.

“Hand me that, will you?”

Dave does and watches as Hotch takes his spare clothes from his bag, belatedly remembering to look away as he slips into them.

“You’re going home with me,” he says once Hotch is dressed, waving his protests away before he can even voice them. “Hotch. You’ve got a concussion. You’re in no shape to look after Jack. And I’ve got a spare bedroom.”

And since he isn’t above blackmail to get Hotch to do what he needs for once, he adds: “Or I can tell your doctor that you have no one to look after you and he can keep you overnight for observation.”

Which would mean leaving Jack alone and from the flash of anger in Aaron’s eyes that is unacceptable.

That’s exactly what Dave is counting on.

The anger leaves Hotch as soon as it’s appeared and the man sighs in defeat. “Fine,” he says, rubbing his face tiredly. “Can we go now?”

“Sure. Sure. Hang tight, I’ll go check with the doc.”

It takes 30 minutes to sort everything out and by the time Dave gets back the whole team is crammed into Aaron’s tiny room.

“Ready to go?” he asks and Aaron looks at him with something a lot like relief in his eyes. Guess their little family can be a little overwhelming when they’re in full protection mode.

Aaron stands and picks his half-asleep son.

“Let’s go, buddy,” Aaron says softly, ignoring Dave’s disapproving look at the strain on his ribs.

Jack mumbles something unintelligible and cuddles closer to his dad as Aaron adjusts his hold on him. They all walk out of the ER together and Morgan hands Rossi the keys to one of the SUVs while Prentiss passes Hotch’s bag along. 

As they pull away from the curb Dave looks back into the rearview mirror and sees the rest of the team huddled together watching them drive away. He feels a pang of sympathy for them – he gets to stay with Hotch and look after him while they’ll go home and worry – and makes a mental note to keep them updated unless he wants them to wind up on his doorstep under false pretenses…

 

It’s dark outside by the time they pull up in front of his place and Dave looks right and left with more paranoia than usual as they make their way into the building. It’s stupid really – Foyet is _dead_ – but he still feels better once he’s locked the door behind them and he’s got Aaron and his son sitting on his sofa.

“Are you hungry?” he hears Aaron ask and at the boy’s nod Aaron makes to stand.

“You. Sit.” Dave says emphatically and feels quite pleased with himself when Aaron parks himself back on the sofa. “I can handle a sandwich.”

That gets an almost smile out of Hotch, Dave’s culinary skills – or lack thereof – legendary among his friends.

“Want one?” he asks before he leaves the room and Aaron makes a face and shakes his head.

Still nauseous then. Dave will have to keep an eye on that.

In the kitchen his fridge is unsurprisingly bare and Dave absently reminds himself that he will need to shop for groceries if he is going to feed Hotch and his son for the next few days. He still manages to scrap up the necessary ingredients for a sandwich and feels quite proud of himself when he presents it to Jack with a flourish and a glass of milk.

Afterwards they go through Jack’s bedtime rituals, Aaron insisting that he can do it and Dave hovering behind in case he needs anything.

“I want Mommy to read me a story,” Jack says once he is safely tucked into bed.

Dave leans against the wall in the hallway and listens to Hotch try to explain to his son why his mother can’t do that. From Jack’s questions it’s clear the boy doesn’t understand – not really. Not yet. How could he?

The room is silent for a very long time before Aaron steps out again, looking more lost than Dave’s ever seen him.

“He fell asleep?” Dave asks to bring some life back to Aaron’s face and the other man nods, rubbing his face tiredly.

“Can we keep the light in the hallway on for tonight? In case he needs me?”

“Of course. Are you sure you don’t want to eat anything?”

“If I do I’ll throw up again,” Aaron says and Dave nods in understanding. “I need a shower.”

“Feel free.” Dave gestures towards the bathroom and trails after him down the hall.

“I can take a shower on my own,” Hotch snaps suddenly and Dave doesn’t know which one of them is more surprised by the outburst.

“Sorry,” Hotch mumbles, moving to close the bathroom door.

Dave stops him with an outstretched hand.

“You have nothing to apologize for,” he says truthfully and Hotch’s lips twist in a bitter smile.

“You know I don’t believe that.”

Aaron closes the door and Dave’s quiet “I wish you would” falls into deaf ears.

He waits until the water turns on before sighing and heading to the kitchen. Waiting there would only risk pissing Hotch off again and besides he needs coffee.

While he’s at it he half-heartedly fixes himself a sandwich, mechanically chewing and swallowing without much enthusiasm while keeping an ear out for any sound that Hotch might be in trouble. But there is none and eventually the water turns off and Dave hears the bathroom door open. He remains in the kitchen though, figuring that Hotch could use some privacy and pours himself a second cup of coffee. He sips it slowly until it’s all gone and the living room’s been quiet for too long.

He finds Hotch on the couch in a white T-shirt and the tired blue pyjama bottoms Dave knows he keeps in his overnight bag. It looks like he fell asleep the minute he sat still long enough for the day’s events to catch up with him, his head angled towards his shoulder in a way that can only be comfortable in sleep.

Dave feels a surge of tenderness at the sight that he doesn’t bother suppressing for once. Instead he reaches out to push back wayward strands of hair that have fallen across Aaron’s forehead. Seemingly of their own accord his fingers then move down to fleetingly caress Aaron’s cheek, stopping for the briefest of moments when Aaron leans into the caress.

The man mumbles something in his sleep and the spell is broken. Dave lets his hand trail down to rest platonically on Aaron’s shoulder and shakes him a little.

“Aaron?” 

Hotch wrinkles his nose before blinking his eyes open, glaring at Dave for waking him up. The sight makes Dave smile and he squeezes Aaron’s shoulder lightly before letting go.

“Time for bed, I think,” he says.

“I can sleep here,” Hotch says and Dave snorts inelegantly.

“Aaron. You’ve got a concussion, cracked ribs and I don’t know how many bruises. You’re taking my bed, and that’s the end of it.”

Aaron doesn’t bother arguing about it and lets Dave usher him to his bed, only stopping once to make sure Jack is still sleeping.

Aaron slips under the covers, exhaustion and pain slowing his movements and Dave resists the urge to tuck the covers around him.

“Get some rest,” he says quietly instead.

“Bed smells like you,” Aaron mumbles as he buries his face into a pillow, sounding half-asleep already.

“Yeah?”

“It’s nice.”

“You think?” Dave dares to ask, feeling a little choked up all of a sudden but Aaron is out like a light.

Later Dave will wonder what Aaron meant. He will try to convince himself it doesn’t mean anything. But he won’t succeed, not entirely. And maybe he’ll even do something about it. Finally.

For now he is just grateful to have Aaron there with him. He sits next to him in the dark and listens to him breathe, and he can finally relax for the first time in months. 

It’s over. Foyet is dead. Hotch isn’t.

Dave sits in the dark and counts each breath, treasuring them like the miracle they are.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally posted at my livejournal.


End file.
